It’s happened people! It’s finally happened!! My softball team the Mother Sluggers has FINALLY won a game (that didn’t include a forfeit).

Now it was all very exciting and I could give you an excruciating detailed description of all the amazing plays that caused this to happen, including my pop fly catch that did NOT give me a black eye… this time.

But instead I’m just going to replay one main event that happened, because it was so horrifying and beautiful at the same time it must be shared with the world.

It was our final turn hitting, we had 2 outs and the game was tied 8-8. A line drive was hit down the center. John, who had been on first, booked it for second base; I mean really booked it, almost flying.

He makes it to second, but the speed he was going sent him flying past the base and out towards center field, momentum’s a bitch. In the dugout we’re screaming at him to get back to second. He finally manages to stop, turn around, and run back to second where the second base girl is holding the ball causing him to stop just out of her arms reach.

This is the following commentary from the dugout as we watched the awesome/awful craziness that proceeded.

“oh crap on a stick, he’s out!”

“no no he’s not, she has to tag him!”

“what’s he doing?”

“… is that jazz hands?”

“um ya, he is definitely doing jazz hands”

“how many beers has he had?”

“she is totally confused”

“wouldn’t you be?”

“Oh my god what’s he doing now?”

“It’s kind of a mix between a trained monkey jig and a dancing circus bear”

“with jazz hands”

(Suddenly John falls to his knees and dives between second base girl’s legs slapping his hand on the base while she plants her glove on his butt.)